The Silkworm (Cormoran Strike, #2)(67)

‘Meanwhile, the heating in the house had been cranked right up, so the body might’ve rotted a bit faster than it would ordinarily have done in this weather. But the hydrochloric acid would’ve tended to mess with normal decomposition. Parts of him are burned to the bone.

‘The deciding factor would have been the guts, last meal and so on, but they’d been lifted clean out of the body. Looks like they left with the killer,’ said Anstis. ‘I’ve never heard of that being done before, have you? Pounds of raw intestine taken away.’

‘No,’ said Strike, ‘it’s a new one on me.’

‘Bottom line: forensics are refusing to commit themselves to a time frame except to say he’s been dead at least ten days. But I had a private word with Underhill, who’s the best of them, and he told me off the record that he thinks Quine’s been dead a good two weeks. He reckons, though, even when they’ve got everything in the evidence’ll still be equivocal enough to give defending counsel a lot to play with.’

‘What about pharmacology?’ asked Strike, his thoughts circling back to Quine’s bulk, the difficulty of handling a body that big.

‘Well, he might’ve been drugged,’ agreed Anstis. ‘We haven’t had blood results back yet and we’re analysing the contents of the bottles in the kitchen as well. But’ – he finished his beer and set down the glass with a flourish – ‘there’s another way he could’ve made things easy for a killer. Quine liked being tied up – sex games.’

‘How d’you know that?’

‘The girlfriend,’ said Anstis. ‘Kathryn Kent.’

‘You’ve already talked to her, have you?’

‘Yep,’ said Anstis. ‘We found a taxi driver who picked up Quine at nine o’clock on the fifth, a couple of streets away from his house, and dropped him in Lillie Road.’

‘Right by Stafford Cripps House,’ said Strike. ‘So he went straight from Leonora to the girlfriend?’

‘Well, no, he didn’t. Kent was away, staying with her dying sister, and we’ve got corroboration – she spent the night at the hospice. She says she hasn’t seen him for a month, but was surprisingly forthcoming on their sex life.’

‘Did you ask for details?’

‘I got the impression she thought we knew more than we did. They came pouring out without much prodding.’

‘Suggestive,’ said Strike. ‘She told me she’d never read Bombyx Mori—’

‘She told us that too.’

‘—but her character ties up and assaults the hero in the book. Maybe she wanted it on record that she ties people up for sex, not torture or murder. What about the copy of the manuscript Leonora says he took away with him? All the notes and the old typewriter ribbons? Did you find them?’

‘Nope,’ said Anstis. ‘Until we find out whether he stayed somewhere else before he went to Talgarth Road, we’re going to assume the killer took them. The place was empty except for a bit of food and drink in the kitchen and a camping mattress and sleeping bag in one of the bedrooms. It looks like Quine was dossing down there. Hydrochloric acid’s been poured around that room too, all over Quine’s bed.’

‘No fingerprints? Footprints? Unexplained hair, mud?’

‘Nothing. We’ve still got people working on the place, but the acid’s obliterated everything in its path. Our people are wearing masks just so the fumes don’t rip their throats out.’

‘Anyone apart from this taxi driver admitted to seeing Quine since he disappeared?’

‘Nobody’s seen him entering Talgarth Road but we’ve got a neighbour at number 183 who swears she saw Quine leave it at one in the morning. Early hours of the sixth. The neighbour was letting herself in after a bonfire-night party.’

‘It was dark and she was two doors down, so what she actually saw was…?’

‘Silhouette of a tall figure in a cloak, carrying a holdall.’

‘A holdall,’ repeated Strike.

‘Yep,’ said Anstis.

‘Did the cloaked figure get into a car?’

‘No, it walked out of sight, but obviously a car could have been parked round the corner.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘I’ve got an old geezer in Putney swearing he saw Quine on the eighth. Rang his local police station and described him accurately.’

‘What was Quine doing?’

‘Buying books in the Bridlington Bookshop, where the bloke works.’

‘How convincing a witness is he?’

‘Well, he’s old, but he claims he can remember what Quine bought and the physical description’s good. And we’ve got another woman who lives in the flats across the road from the crime scene who reckons she passed Michael Fancourt walking past the house, also on the morning of the eighth. You know, that author with the big head? Famous one?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ said Strike slowly.

‘Witness claims she looked back at him over her shoulder and stared, because she recognised him.’

‘He was just walking past?’

‘So she claims.’

‘Anybody checked that with Fancourt yet?’

‘He’s in Germany, but he’s said he’s happy to cooperate with us when he gets back. Agent bending over backwards to be helpful.’